


Contractual Obligations

by Eternal_Garbage



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Handsome Jack is just being himself, Identity Issues, M/M, Strangulation, Timothy Lawrence is a doormat, Zine: Me Myself & I - Jackothy Zine 2020, a sexy useless doormat, and by that I mean an asshole grandioso
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:09:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25941136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage
Summary: Turns out fine print is everything. Is Timothy Lawrence the perfect double Jack paid oh-so-handsomely for?
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Timothy Lawrence
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	Contractual Obligations

He can still say no.

Still refuse.

Still -

Idly, Timothy watches Jack's - _Jack’s_ hands lock around a scrawny neck, thumbs pressing into the windpipe hard enough to feel the ridges of the cartilage. His grip is becoming unsteady, fingers slick from Tassiter's sweat. The man is gurgling by now, his face changing shades from red to blue.

To purple.

Eventually it becomes a curious mix of all three, blotches travelling in most fascinating patterns across the distorted features. Jack’s fingers _squeeze_ and Tassiter’s breath sounds like an ominous whisper - a gust of wind caught between the window frames on a cold and stormy night. Memories of these old fears are sidelined by the sharp reality of the here and now, a child's troubles insignificant in the face of encroaching terror.

Jack’s hands are perfect in every way and it just so happens that they are now his hands too. Timothy Lawrence blinks twice and the illusion dissipates as he stares at his own thumbs pressing into the skin, nails leaving dark marks on Tassiter’s turkey neck.

The man is still alive. He is wheezing and sputtering but until the body stills Tim has a fleeting chance of not becoming what Jack wants him to be.

A worthy copy.

His grip weakens just a smidge but Jack notices and Lawrence feels the menacing presence shifting fluidly somewhere behind him, until a large palm slides over Tim’s shoulder and rests at the back of his neck.

“What’s the hold up, handsome?”

“Jack - ,” he exhales and then grits his teeth, remembering what the other prefers. “Sir.”

“Cupcake, we’ve been over this,” Jack has the audacity to sound exasperated. “Your schtick back at the Vault? Not cool. What am I paying you here for?”

“To be you,” Tim answers listlessly, all the while watching Jack lovingly slide Tassiter’s glasses up the CEO’s nose and pat the man’s cheek, until he’s satisfied with the composition. That done, his attention focuses back on Lawrence, eyes narrowed and a small grin playing on his lips. 

If a snake could smile...

“Let the trash go,” Jack commands and Tim obeys immediately, Tassiter’s body hitting the floor. He tries to ignore how Jack prods the beaten man under the table like some scared little mouse. There is no escape so why not play with his food? The outcome won’t change, all three of them know that. 

Jack’s on him, presence crushing and Tim’s mouth fly open - suddenly there is no air and he feels trapped, cold bright eyes soaking in his every twitch.

“I look at you and expect to see myself,” Jack's palm covers the top of his hand and slowly creeps upwards, against the grain of the soft dark hairs that are standing at the end just from the words alone. “But the issue here? Is that I _don’t,_ ” the fingers lock around his arm like deadly vice and Tim flinches. “I see Timmy - frikkin’ - Lawrence, a little wittle nobody, who thinks he is better than me. That he’s ‘Not Jack’. And, frankly,” The nails dig into his skin, discomfort becoming pain as Tim tries to wiggle free. The more he struggles though, the tighter the grip gets. “It’s _annoying._ ”

“I’m sorry… I shouldn't have said that, sir.” He mutters, hoping it’s enough. It, obviously, isn’t and the glare he receives tells Tim as much.

“Gotta do better than that, kiddo. You have all these contractual obligations, ya know?” Jack’s tone is light and careless but his face tells a very different story. Vicious determination sharpens every angle as he yanks Tim forwards with one hand, while trying to fish out roughed up Tassiter from underneath the desk with the other. Eventually Jack gives up and lets Tim go, diving under the heavy mahogany bureau and dragging out the ratty-looking CEO.

Lawrence only observes, hands firmly at his sides. He wants to do _something_ but none of it is to help the man in peril and _all_ of it to help himself. Why should he even care about the asshole that practically started it all? The one who humiliated a certain engineer incessantly enough for the man to start taking it out on people. 

“Good ole’ Harold here?”Jack, meanwhile, has Tassiter by the throat again, nostrils flaring in agitation. “He’s here to help us put all the cross all the ‘i’s or however that saying goes.”

“Dot the ‘i’s and cross the ‘t’s.”

“Oh look! Creative Writing was it? Adorable,” Jack’s smile has too many teeth as he shoves Tassiter right at Tim, forcing Lawrence to catch him.

“You know what you have to do, _Jack_. So just do it and don’t piss me off more than I already am.” Jack crosses his arms on his chest, giving Tim a look that is both condescending and aggravated. “Today is about fun stuff, the little things in life, cupcake. And yet I find myself teaching my investment his damn place in this beautiful future I'm making. So how about you buckle up, kiddo, and make daddy very happy?”

It is either him or Tassiter. Tim has to turn the future in his favour right here, right now and if he doesn’t - 

No, he _has_ to.

A garotte seems a better choice. It’s cleaner and will keep the death from staining his hands.

Wire, thread - anything will do. 

Timothy’s free hand paws at his hip, fingers catching on a chain - stupid thing that came with the outfit. Tim tugs on it twice and the useless decoration comes loose. 

Looks long enough - _feels_ right enough as silvery links dig into the skin, cutting it and letting the first droplets of blood splatter over the bruises. Gazing upwards Lawrence knits his eyebrows together and concentrates on the task at hand, just like Jack wants him to. 

Put your shoulder to the wheel, kiddo.

When the weight in his arms suddenly doubles, Tim realises it has happened and he lets Tassiter go, heavy thud indicating that what used to be a man is just a lifeless ragdoll at his feet now.

“Holy shit, pumpkin! This? Oooooh who knew that all this was buried underneath the whining? Look. At. You! Wow!” Jack is exuberant and when he is happy, he gets handsy: Tim feels large palms begin to roam. First the small of his back, then the shoulders and down the bicep until the fingers close around the chain and Jack wrestles it away, holding it with two fingers. He’s grinning and the hungry gaze examines the blood-marred metal. 

“You really came through, handsome. What a show! You know what?” the low purr is rumbling at the back of Jack’s throat as Tim finds himself being shoved towards the desk, Jack’s thigh between his as the hands almost lovingly fasten the chain to the lapel of Jack’s new coat. “I think I’ll keep it. And your nifty strangling trick? Love it, so don’t mind if I do.”

Thick fingers dig greedily into Tim’s thigh but they are interrupted by a shrill voice coming from the speakerphone on the desk.

“Mister Tassiter? Mister Tassiter, are you there?”

The purring turns into a growl as Jack leans in and presses a button, leg wedged even closer to Lawrence’s groin.

“Mister Tassiter has been replaced, sweetcheeks. Starting today you’re working for me.”

“Who is...” the secretary stutters and her next words are laced with confusion. “John, is that you?”

At the mention of _that_ name Jack’s face contorts with primal rage and that poor secretary… Tim thinks she will soon vacate her post. Feet first, and the head in a separate bag most likely. The hand moves, warm against the inside of his thigh and Timothy Lawrence draws in a shaky breath as he stops thinking altogether.

“Call me Jack, honey. Handsome Jack.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I have never participated in a zine before and it definitely was a challenge to be appropriately laconic and yet convey a scene fully and as intended. Lots of sweating, swearing and dedication went into this and thanks to the beta skills of [Regsregis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regsregis/pseuds/regsregis) it has become a nice solid piece I am happy with.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my entry and don't forget to check out the other creators as they start sharing their works too!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome, not gonna lie, haha.
> 
> Cheers, Egg.


End file.
